Eleven Moments that Mattered
by Cozziellamas
Summary: Silly set of blurbs that show Lavellan's true colors to Cullan. Feat. Reino Lavellan. A bit of Sera and brief mention of Solas. Also, children.


** So I wrote a stupid set of blurbs for my f!Lavellan/Cullen romance today. I haven't written anything since the Mesozoic age (or was that an era?), so, do pardon any weirdness.**

-O-

The first time he saw her, she was grinning, a sword nearly as tall as herself swinging easily in her hands. Blood ran into her left eye from a wound on her forehead. It dripped down to her mouth, where her tongue occasionally darted out to clean it away. She ran at the shade, laughing all the way as her greatsword crashed through the tatters of it's body. Seeker Penteghast shouted, warning the elf not to get too cocky.

She only laughed and continued to carve a bloody path.

-O-

The second time he saw her, she was chatting with the Seeker, hand on hip, clearly engrossed with their conversation. She cracked off a smart joke and the corner of Cassandra's lip quirked in a brief smile. The delighted look on the Herald's face when she saw this was contagious. Before he could control himself, he too was grinning. The scout who was waiting to receive orders gave him a look, and he quickly schooled himself into a more professional expression.

He couldn't help but give a tiny smile when the sound of her laugh drifted over the clang of training soldiers.

-O-

The third time, he wasn't intending to find her in the tavern.

For once, she wasn't smiling. Instead, a frown marred her face as she argued with Sera. The city elf had apparently done something stupid while they were out questing. Something involving bad aim while throwing tiny poisoned knives.

"Look, it's not my fault knives 'ent bows."

"Sera, you stuck a knife in my leg."

"But you lived, so, that's all well and good, innit? I mean, Egghead fixed it, so's not like you could'a died, yeah?"

The Herald sighed. "Sera, 'Egghead' doesn't appreciate having to purge poison from me after every battle."  
Sera took offence, spouted a few choice words about the Herald being too elfy, then skulked off to the other side of the tavern.

Lavellan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

He decided to leave her be, for now.

-O-

The fourth time, she was rushing to the double doors of the chantry, sword on her shoulder, a grim look on her face.

His gut twisted. She was going to die today. He barely knew her, but the comradeship between them was unmistakable.

She caught his eye before she headed out of the doors. That crazy grin crept back onto her face and she gave him a quick nod before spinning and bolting out the doors, a laugh escaping her.

He couldn't bring himself to remind himself that he wouldn't see her again.

-O-

The fifth time he saw her, she was on her knees in the snow, clutching at the Marked hand. Her sword was gone, and for the first time, she seemed tiny and scared; utterly broken. Her shoulders shook, whether it was her shivering or sobbing, he didn't know. All he knew was that she was alive. When he slung her into his arms, she clutched at his fur mantle until her fingers turned white.

As they trudged back to the makeshift camp, a string of words kept repeating in his head.

_Thank you Maker, thank you, thank you..._

-O-

The sixth time he saw her, she was sitting in a dark corner of the tavern, nursing a pewter mug of ale, her head turned to catch the lyrics of the bard's song. She saw him enter, seemingly from the back of her head, and waved him over, a smile lighting her face.

Over a few mugs of ale, he learned a lot about her. Boots were a necessary evil, she wanted to get Varric an Avvar-bred highland pony, her quarters were too big. She really liked shemlen music.

When he talked, she would lean forward ever so slightly and rest her cheek on the palm of her hand, giving her whole attention. She peppered their conversation with questions and smart remarks.

Their talk ended when a commotion at the other end of the tavern drew the Herald's attention. Sera was trying to stab a mage in the face with an arrow. Lavellan gave him an apologetic look before bolting across the room to break up the argument.

-O-*** **

The seventh time, he heard her before he saw her. The moons were high and the garden was empty. Through the still air, a wordless song wove, sliding and twisting around itself in a tapestry of emotion and sound. The Herald sat under a tree, legs folded under herself.

Her hands fluttered in the air, plucking at an invisible loom. Silvery strands of magic drifted from her fingertips, weaving themselves into a shape. A tiny dragon with the wings of a butterfly darted above her head. It blew silver fire before dissolving into a shimmering nothingness.

Lavellan's voice faltered, cracking. Her song halted. He left her to grieve in private.

-O-

The eighth time, she found him first. Somehow or another, they started a game of chess. It became clear to him that she had no idea how to plan ahead in the game. After beating her four out of four times, she huffed, clutching a single pawn in a death grip.

"It's easier out on the field." she muttered.

He merely chuckled and offered another game.

She beat him this time.

-O-

The ninth time she came to him in his study. Her usually raucous smile had turned shy and her eyes almost seemed to glitter.

She asked if he had time. They walked to the battlements. The Herald leaned up against the masonry. He hovered over her.

A scout- _Maker damn him_\- barged in, clearly oblivious to what he'd interrupted. The commander's irritated glare quickly wised him up. When he was gone, Lavellan fidgeted.

"I can come back another t-"

Before she could move away, he kissed her.

_ Oh._

"That-" she cleared her throat, "that was nice."  
-O-

The tenth time, she was furious. Vile curses flew from her mouth as she flitted about, wringing her hands in an attempt to calm herself.

Adament had not gone well.

He managed to goad her into a sparring session. He ended up with his backside in the dirt, but it was well worth it. She sat down next to him with a thump. They were silent for several minutes. She twirled a grass stem between her fingers. Her words came slowly, almost painfully at first, then they flowed from her, fast and thick, rich in detail and emotion. Visiting the Fade had picked open a scab in her already scarred heart.

What surprised him most about her tale was her fear of never seeing him again, followed closely by her fear of never finding the surviving members of her clan. She laughed at herself then.

"Look at me, being all sentimental and stupid. Come on, let's go to the tavern before I think myself into a worse mood."

He knew this was her way of burying the hurt she bore. He said nothing, only nodded and followed her.

-O-

The eleventh time, she was smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever. The tiny child in her arms looked exactly like her mother; abnormally pale hair, pinkish eyes, a sharp face dulled only by a layer of baby fat. She looked distressed at the sight of her mother's tears.

He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, feeling distinctly as though he were intruding. But then, she turned her eyes to him and beckoned.

"Darling, this is Cullen. He's a very good friend of mine."

The little girl looked up at him, her face startlingly serious. "If'n you hurt my Amma, I'll freeze off your ears, mister," she said, her voice holding the hint of a real threat.

Lavellan scolded her halfheartedly, but he couldn't help but laugh.

"I promise," he said, kneeling to her level, "to never hurt your mother."

"Cross your heart?"

He nodded. "Cross my heart."

-O-

*** In my cannon game, I accidentally sent Josephine to help my clan. Oops.**


End file.
